Every Step of the Way
by GLEEful Heart
Summary: Post hiatus Quartie fic. Will probably become AU from here. Written as a collaboration between DryadSpeaks and GLEEful Heart.
1. Chapter 1

******____****An authors note...Hi there lovely readers:D The Megans have been discussing collaborating together for months, possibly even over a year now...and at long last, it is finally here. This first chapter was written my myself, with, of course, the blessing and beta of the amazing Dryadspeaks!  
**

******_Disclaimer-Glee is the property of FOX, the creators and the writers. _**

******_Every Step of the Way  
_**

"Artie please, it's been almost two weeks…..are you never going to talk to me again?" Quinn pleaded, trying her best to catch up. He slowed to give her that chance, but didn't stop. "I said I was sorry, what more do you want me to do?"

Without turning to face her, Artie motioned for her to follow him to a more secluded area, where they wouldn't be in danger of being tripped over. "Nothing," he replied, shaking his head dismissively as he turned his chair around. "And you don't need to be sorry, Quinn. I'm the one who should be apologizing…"

He looked as though there were words left on the tip of his tongue. Quinn wasn't sure what to do, so she waited patiently for him to continue. When he didn't, she whispered his name, "Artie?"

"You were right, you're not like me," he finally conceded, but hearing it didn't feel much like the victory she thought it would be. Ashamed of her previous outburst and poorly chosen choice of words days before, Quinn lowered her gaze to her lap. "My injury is complete…there was never any hope….no percentages….not even a maybe…," he went on to explain.

Artie could see her expression change immediately. He knew that look, and hated it. He didn't want her, or anyone, to feel sorry for him….he just wanted her to understand why he said what he said. "I was only eight at the time, I didn't really understand what it all meant. It wasn't 'til I was older that it finally hit….," trailing off, his gaze fell while she was lifting her head.

Quinn stared at the way he twisted his hands in his lap, and something inside her began churning in the same way. "And then there was that thing with Tina, freshman year….the stem cell research. I got my hopes up, only to have them crushed once again."

Blue eyes slowly rose to meet soft hazel. "I didn't want that for you." Quinn nodded. "I just wanted you to know that you can still do all of the things you want to do...even if the outcome isn't exactly what you've envisioned..."

"I know," she cut him off, smiling softly. "And I thank you for that. I shouldn't have reacted the way I did, and stormed off like that."

It was Artie's turn to nod.

Surprisingly, the air seemed to thicken after the apologies. Artie shifted uncomfortably in his chair, then cleared his throat. "So I overheard Rachel earlier, " he said the first thing that came to mind, hoping to lighten the mood with a happier subject, "...lemme see it."

Quinn blushed slightly and shook her head dismissively. "It's not that big of a deal, Artie," she tried being evasive, "Really."

"Are you kidding, Woman?" he scoffed incredulously, "It's huge!"

She couldn't stop her grin from widening with excitement as she nodded, then leaned forward past her knees, and flexed her right foot up, about two inches.

"That's so awesome," Artie remarked, without hesitation and completely genuine, though his features softened just a little. "I'm really happy for you Quinn."

She nodded, slowly at first, but then her chin trembled, and her expression began to crumble. She tried to turn away, but her hands covered her face instead of moving the chair. "I'm so scared, Artie," she mumbled through her fingers. "What if this is all I ever get back?"

A pang of guilt hit him. His intention was never to place doubt in her mind, or make her lose hope…just to make her realize that life could be good no matter what the outcome.

He wasn't about to lie to her now. Wrapping his strong arms around her, as awkward as it may have been, Artie held her tight. "Then you _push_ through it and _move_ forward," he whispered into her ear sincerely, "and I'll be with you…every _step_ of the way."

Sobs immediately turned into chuckles, and soon Quinn was playfully pushing him away, smiling at the way he emphasized those particular words. She shot him that 'you're such a big goofy dork' look, that made him smirk innocently.

"Promise?" she asked a beat later, knowing he would, but needing to hear that confirmation. The nod he gave was good enough for her. Taking his gloved hand in hers, Quinn squeezed, and smiled. "Thank You."


	2. Chapter 2

******____****An authors note...Happy to announce the second installment in this collaboration. The lovely Dryadspeaks gets full credit for this chapter. Hope you all enjoy:D  
**

******_Disclaimer-Glee is the property of FOX, the creators and the writers. _**

******_Every Step of the Way  
_**

Quinn reached up into her locker, her fingers barely grazing the math textbook that was just out of reach. She hadn't been having a good day, and her ride was late, and she couldn't reach her book, and she just wanted to go home. But there she was, sitting in her wheelchair, feeling like she was going to cry because she couldn't reach something.

She braced herself on the rims of her chair, attempting to boost herself up a little bit so she could see the book, its shiny red spine mocking her as she realized she couldn't hold herself up and grab it at the same time. She'd been grouchy the last couple of days, because things weren't improving as much as she hoped they would. Or…things weren't really improving at all. Everyone said she just had to give it time, and keep going to physio, but it just seemed like with every day that she felt the same, it felt more like that was how it was going to be forever. And she really didn't want it to be forever.

She had just reached up to try again, when she heard someone walking down the hall. She turned her head, and spotted Mercedes' smiling face.

"Hey, white girl," Mercedes said, stopping beside her. "What are you still doing here? It's late! I had to come back because I forgot my history book," she explained.

"Oh, my ride is late," Quinn said, turning to face her a bit more. "Artie offered me a ride, but Mom had said she was going to pick me up, and then she texted me to say she doesn't know when she'll be able to do that…and I don't really want to take the bus," she explained. She knew she could have phoned Artie, but she really didn't want to do that either. She hadn't really been talking to him much, despite the fact that they'd sort of patched things up after their little…argument, if that's what it could be called. She'd been having too many feelings, and she didn't want him to know about them.

"Well, I'm here," Mercedes said, smiling at her friend. "Why don't I give you a ride?"

"Oh, no, that's ok…" Quinn trailed off. The last thing she wanted was for Mercedes to have to deal with her, and her chair, and the fact that she still couldn't get herself in and out of the car without a significant amount of help. Plus, the little voice in the back of her mind told her that she didn't even really deserve to have Mercedes being nice to her, with the way she'd just kind of…forgotten about the girl's existence, even after she and her family had taken her in while she was pregnant.

"Girl, please," Mercedes said, somewhat sassily, snapping Quinn from her thoughts. "Come on. Get your stuff, and we'll do this," she added, nodding.

"Ok," Quinn said, nodding. "Before we go, do you think you could grab my math book for me? I can't quite reach…" she trailed off, shifting in her chair, feeling embarrassed.

"I think I can do that," Mercedes said, smiling at her as she reached into the locker and grabbed the book, looking at Quinn before shutting the door. "Alright, let's go," she went on, her smile widening into a big grin as they headed down the hall and out to her car.

…

"No, you're going to hurt yourself. I can do it…" Quinn trailed off, as she steeled herself in preparation for getting into Mercedes' car. It was a better height than her mom's car, but she still wasn't sure she could actually get into it by herself. But Mercedes didn't need to know that. It was all about confidence, right?

"Girl, I am not picking you up off the damned parking lot, so just let me help you," Mercedes insisted, putting her hands on her hips. "And please. You weigh nothing!" she added, reaching out to offer Quinn a hand.

After some careful maneuvering, Quinn was seated in the front seat of the car, carefully arranging her legs the way she'd been taught and trying to keep the emotions that were bubbling their way to the surface in check, while Mercedes stowed her wheelchair in the trunk.

"Ok, now that we're in the car, do you need to go anywhere?" Mercedes asked, as they buckled their seatbelts.

"Just home," Quinn said, biting her lip. "Sorry…I know that's not very…friendly," she added. "And I'm sorry for being the worst friend ever and acting like I forgot we were ever friends. I miss you," she blurted out, her eyes suddenly filling with tears. "I'm just…sorry."

Mercedes glanced over at her, not really what to say. Yes, it had hurt that she and Quinn had spent so much time together, and…bonded, if that was what you wanted to call it, only to have Quinn appear to have forgotten all of that after she'd had her baby. It was nice to hear that it hadn't been forgotten.

They sat in silence for a couple of moments, Quinn wiping her eyes, before Mercedes said anything.

"It's ok," she said, finally. "I know life hasn't exactly been easy for you the last year," Mercedes went on, smiling over at her. "But at least we're here now. Hey, before I take you home, do you want to go get some ice cream? We could talk, and, you know…catch up," she asked.

"I'd like that," Quinn said, smiling at her as Mercedes started the car. Maybe she could be a little social instead of going home and watching tv by herself. Even if it was just for a little while, and the same thoughts she'd been having before would resurface as soon as she was alone again.

…

"You're not going to eat that and drive, are you?" Quinn asked, glancing over at Mercedes nervously once they'd finished going through the drive through. "I don't think that's a good idea," she added, feeling herself start to panic, memories of what happens when you drive while you're distracted running through her head as she looked down at her almost completely still legs.

"What? No, girl!" Mercedes answered her, handing the ice cream to Quinn. "I thought you could hold it for me while I park the car, and we can just sit in here and eat it," she added.

"Oh, ok," Quinn said, after she'd taken the ice cream from her. "Sorry," she added softly, as Mercedes parked.

"There's nothing to be sorry for!" Mercedes said, as Quinn handed her her ice cream. "Girl, I cannot get ice cream on these clothes!" she went on, hoping that would come across as a joke and not her making fun of Quinn. The joke seemed to land, as Quinn grinned a little, before licking her ice cream.

"So, what's going on with you and Artie?" Mercedes asked, after a moment. "You guys been looking real close lately, and then I saw him looking at you a couple days ago and he looked miserable as hell."

"Oh-um-" Quinn stammered, trying to figure out what to say. "We…were spending a lot of time together. He came to the hospital, and he was helping me, and everything was great," she explained quietly. "And then he was trying to get me back in touch with reality and I-snapped at him. And said some things I shouldn't have. And he's not even that mad. If I were him I would have been a lot madder…" she trailed off, looking down. "I don't even know how he's talking to me at all anymore."

"What did you say?" Mercedes asked, turning a little in her seat and looking at her friend.

"Oh, it…doesn't matter," Quinn said, softly. "Just some things I shouldn't have said when he was trying to help," she added. "But he was right," she whispered, looking at her ice cream.

"What?" Mercedes asked, as she finished her ice cream.

"Nothing," Quinn murmured. "You've probably got stuff to do, and I should get home," she said, studying her hands. "I have…homework and stuff to catch up on."

Mercedes knew there was more to the story, but she didn't want to push. The fact that Quinn had agreed to go with her at all was more than she'd thought would happen, and she didn't want to upset her.

"We'd better get you home then," Mercedes said, starting the car. They drove to Quinn's in relative silence, and, after parking, Mercedes carefully helped Quinn out of the car.

"Thanks, 'Cedes," Quinn said, smiling a little as she looked up at her friend. "Sorry I'm not better company. But we'll hang out when I am, ok?"

Mercedes agreed, smiling at her and walking her to the door, before telling her she'd see her the next day. Once Mercedes was heading back to her car, Quinn opened the door, wheeling herself inside and muttering under her breath as her elbow hit the doorframe. Artie had offered that she could stay at their house in the guest room, and she had seriously considered it, but that was before their little…incident.

Once she'd put her school things in her room, she headed to the kitchen to get a drink, before wheeling into the living room and awkwardly moving herself out of her chair and onto the couch. She grabbed the tv remote and started casually flipping through the channels, looking for something to take her mind off everything that had been going on.

What if she didn't get better? What if she couldn't make up with Artie? He hadn't acted mad, but that didn't mean he was. Or…he was probably more disappointed than mad, she thought to herself, wiping a couple of tears that she didn't know had invaded her eyes until they started trailing slowly down her cheeks.

Eventually, she stopped flipping the channels and started watching some cooking show, thinking that might take her mind off things.

But it didn't.


	3. Chapter 3

******____****An authors note...Here is the next installment of out post hiatus collaboration. This one is written by yours truly, with the ever helpful insight from the wonderful Dryadspeaks. It is set somewhere during Saturday night Gleever/right before Dance With Somebody. Hope you enjoy, and thanks for reading.  
**

******_Disclaimer-Glee is the property of FOX, the creators and the writers. _**

******_Every Step of the Way  
_**

Quinn contemplated skipping after the morning she had, but didn't really have much of a choice considering she couldn't drive and her ability to remain inconspicuous, once spotted, was currently compromised. It also didn't help that her mother dropped her off at school, and insisted on walking her_ into_ the building, to sign her back in.

Rounding the corner, she came face to face with the one person she did not want to see right now...Artie Abrams.

"Hey Quinn, how's it going?"

"It's not," she snapped, breezing past him, "thanks for asking."

"What's wrong?" he implored, racing to catch up with her.

Quinn immediately spun to a stop, something she was getting far too good at for her liking, and glared. Seriously? For a kid with an IQ level of near genius, he was pretty damn stupid. How could he_ not_ know what was wrong? She glanced down to avoid looking at his face, those eyes, and that genuinely concerned expression she was beginning to hate with a passion. "Nothing's wrong," she lied, "just went to the doctor this morning and he increased my PT sessions from three days a week, to five."

There was a momentary pause that felt like a month. "Oh," he returned casually, like it was the most logical answer he'd ever heard. "That's great. Must mean you're ready for more intensive sessions."

Okay, now she just wanted to punch him. "Yeah, I guess," she intoned with a dismissive shrug. She wasn't about to tell him it was actually because her progress had slowed, almost stalled. She_ was not_ going to give him the satisfaction of being right. She _was_ going to get out of Lima,_ she_ was going to Yale, and she _was_ going to walk.

"If you want, maybe we can coordinate our schedules and go together," he offered in that completely sincere tone. "That way you can ride with me, and wouldn't have to take the bus any..."

"No thanks," Quinn cut him off, giving the wheels a hard tug to her right. "I already have someone to go with."

A sigh. "Oh, okay."

Quinn was happy she wasn't facing him any longer. She really didn't need to see the expression that went with the...disappointment(?), that was evident in his voice. No, she just needed to get the hell out of there. "Gotta go, Artie," she called out, without so much as a glance backward. "See, ya."

...

Closing her eyes, Quinn tried to relax her body, to connect. She could feel the stretch, and pain, in her hips and upper thighs, but she wanted more...needed more.

"Hey Dave, how's it goin'?"

No. Fucking. Way.

Cracking her left eye open, Quinn turned her head in the direction of the familiar sounding voice. Sure, from behind the chair looked the same, and so did the hair, but it couldn't be, could it?

There was a, "Preach, Brotha." and then _that _laugh. Yeah, it was definitely him. Ugh, she turned her gaze back to the ceiling, eyes blazing. How was he always so damn positive and cheerful?

"You ready to do this, Man?"

"You know it."

Quinn fought her curiosity, but out of the corner of her eye, she could see him spin his chair around. She couldn't keep her head from following, and watched as inconspicuously as possible, as he lined up his chair with the table and swiftly transferred, relying on nothing but his upper body. It still took at least two people to help her up, and she had full use of her abs and hips.

She watched the therapist moved Artie's chair out of the way, and reached for his legs. It was then she noticed he was wearing shorts. Quinn had never seen Artie wear anything but pants, mostly the baggy Grandpa kind, though sometimes jeans for Glee...but never shorts, not even that time in the pool. After another glance, she realized why.

Artie's legs were beyond skinny, void of any definition or tone, as then hung limply over the therapists arm, while he was helping the boy lie down. She stared as he carefully laid them out in front of Artie, and got to work removing his shoes. Shoes that looked unnaturally large for legs so thin. A lump formed in her throat when Artie's left leg flopped to the side once the therapist let go. That lump only increased when she noticed how his feet did the same after the shoes were removed, splayed to the side, toes curved toward the ground.

Quinn remembered the feeling of jealousy at the girls who's feet were flexible enough to touch their toes to the ground when stretching in a straddle position, in ballet class. That feeling was instantly replaced with something else, something deeper, something painful. She must have grimaced because in the next second, her therapist was asking if everything was okay. "Fine," she answered, blushing slightly as she flashed a reassuring smile, "That stretch feels great."

Okay, that sounded so much better in her head.

Breaking eye contact, Quinn pressed her head into the small pillow behind it and tried to focus on the ceiling.

That lasted all of two seconds.

Quinn's head shifted back to the left, and to the casual observer, it looked like she was detached, simply staring off across the room at nothing in particular. But she wasn't, she was watching how Artie's therapist was carefully and expertly manipulating his leg. She recognized the motions as the range of motion exercises that started out every session she'd had since waking up in the hospital, though she had since graduated to more intensive stretching and strengthening. But for Artie it was obviously different. There was no effort on the therapists part when he moved his knee toward his chest, no resistance when he flexed and rotated Artie's foot. There were no muscles left to rebuild, much of those had wasted away long ago. No temporarily dormant nerves with the ability to repair themselves, not for him. Just daily maintenance without any hope of recovery.

Artie's burst of laughter jarred Quinn from her reverie. She glanced back in time to see the playful exchange between therapist and patient, before the older man circled the table to work the other side.

...

It wasn't long before Quinn's session was over and she was taken back to a private room for the deep muscle massage her mother was paying extra for. It was just like Judy Fabray to find a way to pamper her daughter, while still getting her the best medical treatment possible. But instead of enjoying the relaxation technique, Quinn was thinking about Artie. She hoped he would still be in the therapy room when she was finished so they could talk.

Her wish came true twenty minutes later.

"Thought I might find you here."

Artie startled, then spun his chair around to face the voice from behind him. "Quinn," he gasped breathlessly, looking much more like a deer in headlights, than one friend greeting another. "Wha...what are you doing here?"

"Um, same as you," Quinn replied offhandedly, but immediately soured at her choice of words. "My doctor increased my therapy, remember?" Not waiting for a reply, she continued. "I usually have my session after my massage, but I asked if I could come before since Joe couldn't come with me today, and I don't like riding the bus alone at night." Quinn waited this time, but all she got in return was a blank stare and an awkward shift. "I guess I should have taken you up on your offer."

"Huh?"

Letting out a slight sigh of annoyance, Quinn reminded him, "The offer you made at school, to coordinate our schedules, and carpool here?"

"Oh, right," Artie replied, though seeming no less distracted than before.

Quinn furrowed her brow in concern. She couldn't figure out why he was acting so strange, he was fine a few hours ago at school. Hoping to lighten the mood, she opted for playful banter. "New accessory?" she asked, motioning to her shoulder in reference to the towel slung around his neck.

"Ah, um...no," he stuttered a little, then blushed a furious shade of red, though Quinn wasn't exactly sure why. "I um, I usually go to the pool after my sessions."

"Oh," it was Quinn's turn to exclaim. Well, that explained the shorts; and on instinct, her gaze lowered.

His feet were bare now, pale, and set slightly askew, like they were almost haphazardly placed on the footrest. Shins looked even thinner than they did from across the room, no defined calf, and not much bigger than her forearm. His knees were boney and...

"I gotta get going," Artie stated abruptly, pulling the towel off his shoulder and tossing it into his lap, before spinning his chair toward the exit.

Quinn didn't get a chance to talk to him, or apologize for the way she'd been acting. In fact, she wasn't even able to call out his name, before he'd disappeared through the doors.

...

_**ANx2...I know there were many references to the appearance of Artie's legs, and well, that was done intentionally. You'll see why in upcoming chapters:D**_


	4. Chapter 4

******____****An authors note...We would like to extend our heartfelt thanks to all the wonderful readers out there, your feedback is much appreciated. So without further ado, here is the next chapter, written by the extremely talented, DryadSpeaks:D  
**

******_Disclaimer-Glee is the property of FOX, the creators and the writers. _**

******_Every Step of the Way  
_**

Artie sat, alternating between staring at his hands and pretending that he was paying attention to the duet currently being sung in front of him by Joe and Quinn. Part of him felt a little sick as he watched. He thought about the duet he and Quinn had sung, just a couple of weeks earlier. It had been so great…their voices blending perfectly, Quinn's smile genuine as they sang and danced while the glee club looked on. Quinn's laughter had been so happy, carefree almost. But, of course, that was before he'd reminded her that maybe her optimism was misplaced. And, while they had sort of patched things up, it was still a little weird. He figured their encounter at physio hadn't helped either.

As he sort of watched them perform, his mind continued to wander, his eyes finding their way back to his hands as he fidgeted with the velcro on his glove. He hated it when people saw his legs. They were so white, and thin, and they just kind of…sat there, most of the time. It made people feel uncomfortable, because they just looked so…sad. And pathetic. He hated for anyone to see him like that, vulnerable and exposed. It made people feel uncomfortable, to see something damaged and broken like that. It probably made Quinn feel especially uncomfortable, because it was like a constant reminder of everything she was trying to get away from. He couldn't blame her, really, but it still made him feel…all sorts of things.

He liked Quinn, a lot. But she probably didn't like him, his brain said, in a quiet little voice. Because even if she walked again, if she made a complete recovery…having anything to do with him at all would probably only result in feelings she didn't need to be having anymore being stirred up.

He glanced up, briefly, taking in Quinn's face. She was smiling, but it looked forced. Then he glanced over at Joe, noticing the creepy grin on his face. What was that? It was just…wrong. He thought about how happy Quinn had been when they'd performed their duet, her smile carefree and genuine, and then compared it to what was going on in front of him, and it made him feel kind of sick. He started looking around the room, trying to find something to take his mind off what was going on, and breathed a sigh of relief when it was over.

…

Later in the day, Artie sat in the library, looking for a book, and…hiding. He didn't think Quinn would be there, and he certainly hoped she wouldn't be there with Joe. Artie just wanted to be alone.

According to the catalogue, the book he was looking for was somewhere he knew he could reach, but he soon found himself staring up at the shelf above him, the book perched there, almost defiantly, just out of his reach. He looked around on lower shelves, hoping there would be something similar that he could just use instead, but unfortunately there wasn't.

He was in the middle of trying to figure out if he could brace himself enough on his chair to reach it without having some sort of unfortunate and embarrassing Library accident, when Mercedes rounded the corner, coming to a stop beside him, hands on her hips.

"Need some help?" she asked, looking up at the top of the bookshelf. "What are you looking for?"

Artie mumbled the name of the book, and Mercedes reached up, plucking it easily from the shelf. Yet another thing he couldn't do, Artie's own voice whispered into his ear. He couldn't even get a book off a shelf.

"Thanks," he said, as she handed it to him and he placed it in his lap.

"You ok?" she asked, following him over to the table where he'd left the rest of his school books. "Are you not feeling well? You looked a little green in glee club."

"What?" Artie asked, shifting in his chair. "No, I'm fine. Feeling great!" he added, trying to plaster a believable smile on his face.

"White boy, you are seriously the worst liar ever," Mercedes said, laughing a little as she sat down. "Got anything to do with Quinn? I know you guys got something going on," she added, deciding it best to cut right to the chase. After all, she'd gone to the library specifically because she figured he'd be there, since he wasn't any of the other places she thought he might be. "Right?"

"I don't know," Artie said, sighing. Suddenly it was like he was unable to stop the words from falling out of his mouth. "I might have…feelings for Quinn, but I screwed it up, and then I thought it was ok, and now she's hanging out with...that other person, and it's just…it sucks."

Mercedes gave a knowing nod. "Figured that's what it was. You got it bad, don't you?"

Artie didn't say anything, faintly nodding his head. "But it doesn't matter," he said, shrugging and rearranging his books.

"And why's that?" Mercedes asked, raising an eyebrow. "I see the way you look at her."

"It doesn't matter, Mercedes," Artie said, looking down and studying his gloves. "She's not into me. She can barely even look at me…I just remind her of everything she doesn't want to be."

"Boy, you're trippin'" Mercedes said, placing a comforting hand on his arm, her action and words not exactly fitting together, but she didn't care. "You need to talk to her about this. You can't put words into her mouth, or...whatever this is," she added. "You know that."

"Like I said…it doesn't matter," Artie said, shrugging. "Don't talk to anyone about this, please. Ok? I'll just…deal. I always do. This time is no different."

Mercedes leaned forward, hugging her friend. "I won't," she said, "don't worry."

…

After Mercedes left the library, Artie sat for a little while, staring at his books, and thinking about it. He knew he needed to talk to Quinn about it, but he just…couldn't.


	5. Chapter 5

******____****An authors note...I hope there are still some of you still interested in this story. I'm sorry it hasn't been updated in what feels like ages, but we'll try to wrap it up ASAP. Thanks for sticking with us, enjoy!  
**

******_Disclaimer-Glee is the property of FOX, the creators and the writers. _**

******_Every Step of the Way  
_**

"Hey Quinn, you got a minute?"

Pausing at the sound of her name, Quinn spun around and looked up, smiling. "Sure Sam, what's up?"

The blond glanced down the halls as he shifted slightly from foot to foot. "Can we maybe go somewhere a little more private?" he asked softly.

Quinn's eyes narrowed and her expression turned quizzical, but she shrugged in agreement anyway. "Yeah, sure." She followed him to a remote corner of the school, that was relatively empty this time of day, and glanced over her surroundings. "Sam, what's going on?"

"I wanted to talk to you," he replied simply.

"So that meant bringing me all the way to the custodial wing of the school?" she returned suspiciously.

"I wanted to talk to you in private," Sam elaborated, though not quite enough. He wasn't exactly sure how to approach this subject sensitively.

"You already said that," Quinn reminded him warily.

"It's about Joe."

Shifting a little, she tried to remain casual. "What about Joe?"

Sam let out a heavy sigh and shrugged. "Well he um, came to talk to me today…about you." Quinn's brow shot up, her interest obviously piqued. A knot of dread twisted in her belly_. Could Joe have told him?_

"Oh yeah, what about?" she asked, her words tumbling out quickly, nervously.

Sam shrugged again, in nervous hesitation. "About his feelings for you," he finally blurted out.

Quinn scoffed at the implication. "I assure you Sam, Joe's feelings for me are purely platonic," she said, giggling softly.

"Are you sure?" he countered skeptically, especially after the conversation they had. "I mean he _said_ he really liked you."

"And I really like him," Quinn returned pointedly. "Joe's a super nice guy who's been helping me with therapy, that's all."

"Whatever happened to Artie, wasn't he helping you?" Sam asked, just realizing now that the two who were practically inseparable just a few weeks ago, were hardly interacting at all anymore.

Sam still wasn't convinced she was completely understanding what he was getting at, but she was starting to look a little disinterested...or was it angry? "Look, I'm sorry. Maybe it's none of my business, but we dated Quinn, and I care about you."

"I appreciate that Sam," she cut in defensively, "but I assure you, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

"Wait no, I didn't mean it..."

Without waiting for Sam to finish, Quinn simply silenced him with a wave of her hand, signaling this conversation was over. "I know you didn't," she returned, letting out a small sigh before straightening her back and squaring her shoulders confidently. "Thank you for your concern Sam, but there is no need to be worried about me, I'll be just fine." With that, Quinn pushed off with a great flourish down the hall, leaving Sam standing there, gaping after her.

He knew he should have been a little more...descriptive, but how do you tell your wheelchair-bound ex girlfriend that the creepy new kid helping her in therapy may only be interested in getting into her pants? It was fairly clear by the tone she used and her hasty retreat, that Sam had already overstepped his boundaries enough as it was, making Quinn upset with him.

Only she wasn't necessarily upset.

What Sam didn't see was the slight smile of satisfaction forming on Quinn's lips at the notion that Joe liked her. Like, liked her, liked her. He wasn't repulsed by her, as she'd feared, that would be confirmed later that evening at PT when Joe all but asked her to be his girlfriend.

Wheelchair or not, Quinn Fabray still had it...and she knew exactly what she was going to do with it.

...

"Finn, I need to ask you a favor."

Before he'd even had a chance to hear what that favor was, he was agreeing. "Sure Quinn, anything."

Smiling into her phone, Quinn continued...this was going to be much easier than she would have ever imagined. "Well prom is coming up, and this is our senior year. I'm sure you know it's always been my dream to become prom queen...now probably more so than ever." She paused for effect. "I'm calling to ask if you'd like to be my running mate. I mean, we are still the most popular people in the senior class, if not the entire school. We have a duty, an image to uphold. It'll be just like old times."

His silence was unnerving. There was another pause, though this one was followed by a wistful sigh. "I'll understand if you say no, because of Rachel. Even though it was _her_ I was texting back, on the way to _your_ wedding, that caused the horrible accident I was in, leaving me bound to this chair for..."

"No Quinn," Finn finally cut in, "of course not. I mean definitely. Yeah, I'll do it."

"I thought you'd see it that way," Quinn nearly squealed with delight, a triumphant smile spreading across her face. "I'll get these posters printed up tonight, so we can start putting them up tomorrow."


End file.
